


The Interview

by lls_mutant



Series: Those Who Lift Each Other Outtakes [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/pseuds/lls_mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sarah Porter rejects him as her aide, Kurt decides to take matters into his own hands and get a job with someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> These are just scenes that I'm writing here and there for memes or because I feel like it- scenes that we didn't get to see because they weren't that character's POV chapter.

If he could have, he would have spent hours getting dressed that morning. As it was, Kurt still spent too much time staring at his open suitcase, debating which outfit would make more of an impression. The kilt was daring and coordinated well with the gray top, but the pants were probably more what a Sagittaron was expecting.

Screw it. That was the _point._ He was who he was, and that was what he was counting on. From everything Blaine had ever told him, Tom Zarek wouldn't respect someone who tried to conform to what people wanted. That was exactly why Kurt was trying this crazy scheme anyway. He scooped up the kilt and the gray top and snuck out of the compartment where the rest of New Directions was still sleeping, trying not to wake anyone.

He spent time on his hair, making sure that it looked perfect. He checked his skin and dabbed a little concealer on a zit that was developing on his temple. He made sure his shoes were perfectly polished, fastened on a watch, and pinned a brooch to one of the straps that crossed across his chest. He took one last look in the spotted bathroom mirror, pulled in a deep breath, and nodded. He was ready.

"Where are you going?" the shuttle pilot asked when Kurt climbed on a little later.

"The _Astral Queen._ "

The shuttle pilot looked him up and down. "Right."

The whole way over, Kurt stared out the window, clutching his notebook to him. The ships were in neat formation, and this was a view of them that he didn't get from a window on the _Cybele_.

The _Astral Queen_ was one of the bigger ships, and as the shuttle docked, Kurt had to swallow back his nerves. He'd never really had a job interview before. "Just think of it as an audition," he reminded himself. "It's really the same thing."

"All right, kid," the shuttle pilot said as the door opened. " _Astral Queen._ "

"Am I supposed to tip you?" Kurt asked.

The pilot looked at him like he was from outer space. "Are you kidding?"

"Guess not. Thank you, then." Kurt climbed off the shuttle into the dingy gray of the docking bay. "By the way, do you know-" but the shuttle door was closed and the shuttle was already taxiing to the airlock. Kurt watched until the airlock closed, and then turned back.

"All right," he said. "This can't be hard." There was a guard standing by the door. "Excuse me," Kurt said, flouncing over and radiating as much confidence as he could. "I'm looking for Mr. Tom Zarek."

The guard gave Kurt the same skeptical look the shuttle pilot had. "Right. Go down cell block D, up the stairs at the end, and the second door on the right. That's Zarek's office."

"Thanks," Kurt chirped. He could do this. Tom Zarek was an intelligent man and he would welcome an organized, punctual, self-motivated assistant, Kurt was sure of it. In fact, he'd seen the man once on TV and he had several suggestions already, starting with the cut of his suit and changing the color of his tie, because _really_ , green was not Zarek's color. He found the door marked "Cell Block D" and opened it. A long, straight corridor was there in front of him.

He made it two cells down before the first wolf whistle was let out. Three cells down before someone called him "baby." Five cells down before the first suggestion of sex, and in much cruder terms than he'd ever heard before.

It was quickly dawning on Kurt that he really, really hadn't thought this through.

Kurt was convinced that stereotypes were bad things, because if you listened to the world, _he_ was a walking stereotype, and he knew just how much more than that he was. He was a living, breathing person, thank you very much, and so was every other stereotyped person. However, stereotypes began in some bit of truth, and Kurt was being reminded of that right now, especially as one bearded man leered at him and made a suggestion so obscene that Kurt scurried away and blushed. The convicts watching all burst into laughter.

He could turn around, and for a moment, Kurt considered it, especially when he realized that those cells? _They weren't locked_. Just how safe was he, anyway? Any one of these guys could lunge out and grab him and pull him into a cell and – oh gods, he was _insane_. And yet, his feet kept moving forward, one step at a time. Because no one _did_ pull him into a cell. They laughed, they leered, they made their comments, but no one laid a hand on him. Kurt kept his eyes forward and kept walking. The stairs at the end seemed so far away, but he finally made it. "Rising above it all" had never felt so literal as he climbed them. _Second door on the right._ Kurt took a moment in the hall to take a deep breath and calm his shaking stomach, and then knocked.

"Come in." The answer was immediate. Kurt pushed open the door.

Tom Zarek was sitting at a small desk, wearing a t-shirt and jeans- much more casual than Kurt had expected. He looked up from his writing. "Yes?"

"Mr. Zarek?" Kurt stood as straight as he could. "My name is Kurt Hummel. I've come over from the _Cybele_ to work as your assistant."

Zarek frowned. "I wasn't aware I was hiring an assistant."

"I don't think you can afford not to," Kurt said. "Right now, the work load of a representative to the Quorum of Twelve might not be as heavy, but it will rapidly pick up. Especially for a representative that has his eye on the Presidency come those promised elections. You need someone who is organized, punctual, and presents a professional face to the world. I would be able to keep your appointments, to keep track of your commitments, to help coordinate your staff, and to help deal with the people who are looking to speak to you."

Zarek's eyebrows went up a little. "And why you? I'm sure you haven't missed the fact that there are a thousand men on this ship who don't have jobs."

"True. But how many of them want to be what is essentially a subservient position? How many of them aren't bitter with the world and eager to present a good face to the rest of the Fleet immediately?"

"I could find a few." Zarek was challenging him; Kurt could see it in his eyes. He wanted the real story.

"I offered to be Sarah Porter's aide first," Kurt admitted. "I'm Gemenese, after all. It makes sense. She turned me down- without an interview."

"Without an interview."

"Just by looking at me." Kurt raised his chin. "I'm sure that's a bit of knowledge that you can make use of."

"It is."

"It would be an interesting angle, don't you think?" Kurt continued. "Sagittaron and Gemenon are traditionally at odds, but the idea of forming an alliance shows that you, as a representative of Sagittaron, are willing to work with the rest of the Fleet."

Now Zarek looked amused. "I think I could convey that without hiring an assistant," he said. "However… you do bring up good points about me needing someone. And I have to admit, you're probably head and shoulders above a lot of these people when it comes to current events. Sagittaron educational systems… leave something to be desired."

"Mmm." Kurt decided to be diplomatic and say nothing.

"And you've got guts, waltzing in here," Zarek said. "All right. We'll give it a try for a week. You can start today, actually." He handed Kurt a stack of notes and pointed to an ancient typewriter in the corner. "I need them typed into a speech. I want it done by five, and then you'll return to the _Cybele_ for the night."

"Yes, sir," Kurt said. The stack was thick- he was going to have to work extremely quickly. "Thank you."

"Thank me if it works out," Zarek said. "We'll see."

"Yes, sir." Kurt immediately sat down and got to work.

He left at five, his work completed and his neck and eyes sore. Zarek had just given him a grim nod and a brief reminder to be there at eight the next morning. It was a start, and a good one. He walked down the corridor between the cells, ignoring the catcalls a little easier. Halfway down, some little voice told him to turn around. He did, and looked up. Tom Zarek was watching him from a second-floor observation window. He'd likely seen Kurt coming, too.

Kurt raised his hand in a sassy farewell. He'd bet any money that the fact he'd kept going this morning was the reason he'd gotten his job.


End file.
